A Christmas Carol
by dinabar
Summary: A Festive Fic. After the Lyell Centre Christmas party Nikki has an unexpected visitation.
1. Chapter 1

**A festive offering for you in response to Freya82's challenge. A bit of Dickens, a bit of a '9 lessons and carols' theme, a bit of something you're probably not expecting and no Elvis (he tried, I just wouldn't let him in.) Post series 16 but no dramatic spoilers. Happy Christmas.**

* * *

**A Christmas Carol**

**Chapter One **

'_**Deck the halls with boughs of holly fa la la la la, la la la la**_

_**Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la, la la la la.'**_

Irish coffee on Christmas Eve was a Lyell Centre tradition long before Nikki Alexander had joined the team. Longer even than before Leo had joined but it was going to take more than three Irish coffees to get through the evening ahead, even if she drank all three of them herself.

The bar was gaudily decorated, Christmas music had been blaring since she'd arrived. And now she was sat in a corner table as far away from the decorations and the speakers as possible with a glass of wine and the Irish Coffees staring at her. She'd finished her first glass before anyone else had arrived. Not that that had been her first. She'd started rather earlier that day, a lot earlier.

On reflection it wasn't that different to many of the other days. Jack liked driving, so she made sure he drove to the scenes. She took the train home when she needed to. There was always an open bottle of something in the desk now, just something to get through the day. Something to keep the pain at bay, something to make sure she numbed herself to the daily atrocities that assaulted the quiet of the cutting room and the memories that haunted her mind.

She'd never really been keen on Christmas. She didn't know why she'd even agreed to come.

Yes she did.

Free booze.

"Oh you're here!" Came a cheery voice near her table. Nikki looked up to see Clarissa wheeling towards her, the tinsel on her wheels sparkling in the light as she moved. "Thanks for getting the drinks in."

Nikki looked absently at the three drinks on the table and across to her colleague.

"They're not yours," she said harshly.

"What's not ours?" Jack queried, taking off his coat and rubbing his hands against the cold.

"Nikki's having drinks with the Ghosts Of Christmas Past," Clarissa explained sarcastically and wheeled the chair around to turn her back on Nikki.

"Come on Nikki, it's Christmas. Lighten up for once!" he begged his accent seeming more prominent than ever.

"Why?"

"Because it's the season…" Jack began but was interrupted.

"What? The season for debt, depression and domestic violence; closely followed by the season of more debt and suicide. I'd have thought you'd have learnt that by now!" Nikki exclaimed caustically.

"Then think about the real meaning of Christmas!"

"Hah! The coming of the light of the world? Peace on earth and goodwill to all men? Where? Tell me where?"

"Just leave her Jack, if she wants to play the part of Scrooge then let her, there's no point when she's like this," Clarissa said gently. "Merry Christmas Nikki," she called back over her shoulder as she made her way towards some more festive looking colleagues.

"Bah, humbug," Nikki grumbled.

"Nikki, please!" Jack begged. "I hate seeing you like this… He wouldn't have wanted to see you like this." Jack added glancing at one of the drinks on the table.

"I can't celebrate Jack. I can't. Eat drink and be merry? What's the point? All in honour of the baby born to die? What must have that done to his mother? To know? There she is rejoicing in the safe delivery in the most unhygienic of places of a miraculous baby that should never have been when some crazy old men turn up with a gift of embalming fluid?"

"And gold," Jack interjected.

"Yes the gold I'm sure was useful."

"What must she have felt?"

"Mary?"

"Yes Mary!"

"To know her son was going to die?"

"Everybody dies, Nikki. That's why we have jobs."

"The man who gave up his life to save others," Nikki scoffed, staring back at one of the spare drinks.

"The man who willingly gave up his life to save those he loved," Jack said sagely, his eyes focussed on the same drink. "So that you and I would have life." Jack rubbed his hands again, but not from the cold this time. "So live it Nikki. Live your life. Don't get stuck in Christmas past, he wouldn't want you to," he shot a look at the other glass, back to Nikki and flicked his eyes across the room.

"Oh go and join the others," she said bitterly. "Christmas is all about celebrating with friends and family. Leave me here with mine and go and join them."

Jack opened his mouth, he tried to formulate a comment about her dysfunctional family, one dead and the one she never mentioned by name but thought better of it and left without a word. Clarissa was right, there was no point trying to get through to Nikki when she was like this.

* * *

**Deck The Halls: Thomas Oliphant**


	2. In The Bleak Midwinter

**Chapter Two**

**In The Bleak Midwinter**

'_**In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,  
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;'**_

The barman had called her a cab. Or so he'd said. She'd suspected it was Jack.

She'd not talked to anyone else just kept the drinks coming. There was only so much Christmas spirit you could sit through and none of the Christmas songs she liked had come on. No 'Fairytale of New York', no 'Blue Christmas,' not even 'I'll be home for Christmas,' nothing. It was all getting a bit blurry and all the drinks on the table were finished so she wasn't turning down a cab on Christmas Eve even if it was barely ten-thirty.

There was no snow; it wasn't even that cold. She leant her head back against the window and watched the streets flash past. There were more tacky lights decking out the boring suburban streets, as crass and pathetic as a paper umbrella in a cocktail. No one here seemed worried by the crippling price hike of electricity bills. Or maybe that was all part of the post-Christmas depression.

"Happy Christmas, Miss" said the obviously devout Muslim driver as she handed over the cash.

"Erm, thanks. Keep the change," she said as she fumbled for the door handle.

Despite the mild weather, Nikki pulled her coat around her and stood gingerly on the pavement to readjust her balance after the low seat of the taxi. There was something different about her front door but she couldn't make out what.

It was dark, unlike the neighbour's that had enough flashing lights to land a small aircraft or induce a large seizure. She shuffled a few steps further up the path and finally deduced that the difference was due to something on her doormat. It wasn't the right shape for a box, and she'd not ordered anything. It was more like a large bag. Or a large coat. In fact more like a large coat sat on a large bag.

She took a step or two back down the path as she finally realised that there was a man sitting on her doorstep, leaning against her front door. He looked as if he'd been there for a while. He looked comfortable in an odd kind of way. He appeared to be sleeping.

She rubbed her eyes to check she wasn't imagining things. It wouldn't be the first time.

She tried to think of which of the local churches had a night shelter, but her brain hurt. She knew she couldn't leave him asleep on her doorstep on Christmas Eve. She'd have to do something. She'd have to step over him to get in to her house.

It was then she noticed his shoes. It was as the pompom at the top of the neighbour's six foot Santa blinked on and off, that she caught the reflection. Those weren't the shoes of a homeless person. Those shoes had been polished recently.

She took four more steps up to the front door and rattled her keys.

A head emerged from the coat with very short hair speckled with grey and a kindly face.

"Leo?" Nikki gasped. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

**In The Bleak Midwinter: Christina Rossetti**


	3. Chapter 3 Gabriel's Message

**Chapter Three**

**Gabriel's Message**

'_**The angel Gabriel from heaven came  
His wings as drifted snow  
His eyes as flame'**_

"You'd better come in." Nikki slurred. "Why didn't you let yourself in?"

"I didn't have a key?" said the man in confusion.

"Why would you need a key?" Nikki asked.

"Are you alright Nikki? … How much have you had? … Oh, it was Christmas Eve… You've had the whole department's quota. Irish coffee! His face fell.

"Oh and a few other bits and bobs… Don't look so sad," Nikki said, stabbing the key at the front door but missing the keyhole by miles. The man took the key from her hand and opened the door.

"You can stick around if you're going to be this helpful," Nikki commented, concentrating hard at lifting her feet up over the step and safely into the house.

"Does Leo visit often?"

"What kind of question is that to ask me Leo? You used to visit all the time!"

"Yes, but I mean recently."

Nikki blinked. "No, he's not visited me for a while now." There was a hesitation in her voice, an almost acknowledgement in her use of the third person that this man could not be Leo, but who else could it be?

"But…"

"But I see him all the time; usually out of the corner of my eye. Or in a crowd. He's always there he's just he's never spoken to me before." She took off her coat and dumped it on the floor near the coat hook. She turned back to look at her guest.

"Only you look a bit more like someone else I used to know only with grey hair, rather than Leo. Maybe the Christmas ghosts got confused."

"You think I'm the ghost of Christmas past?"

"Aren't you?"

The ghost shrugged and shook his head but whether from disbelief or in answer to her question Nikki wasn't sure.

"You're hardly likely to be the ghost of Christmas future, what with you being dead." She chuckled and tried to give him a playful punch on the shoulder but missed and caught hold of the wall to steady herself.

"Well ghost of Christmas present, now you're here. Do you fancy celebrating?" Nikki made her way towards the kitchen; her visitor picked up her coat, hooked it onto the hook, added his own and followed her.

"I think you might have done enough celebrating; a glass of water and some aspirin would be perfect." He handed over the drink and she took the medicine without questioning how he'd known which cupboard to look in.

"So have you come to show me the future?" Nikki asked with a yawn.

"I never said I was a Christmas ghost."

"It is good to see you Leo, I missed you earlier. It was quiet without you."

"You didn't talk to the others?"

"Hunh?"

"The others?"

"No, why would I want to talk to them?

"It is really good to see you," Nikki repeated and gave the man an overfriendly and off balanced hug. "You're very warm for a not ghost. I should probably go to bed…"

The man shook his head sadly again.

"I'm tired." Nikki continued. "Do you want to use Har… the spare room? Will you be here in the morning? I'd really like to talk to you, but I'm just so tired."

Nikki began to pull off her clothes, leaving them on the floor where they dropped and headed towards her bedroom.

"Nikki!" the man called in exasperation at the mess and half covering his eyes. He saw her stop, catch her breath.

"No, can't be…" she muttered and shut herself in her room.

* * *

**Gabriel's Message: Translated by Sabine Baring-Gould**

**Anyone out there? I know it's not a laugh a minute but blame Freya...she made me do it. Reviews always gratefully appreciated, especially when this one is slightly left field. Predictions also very welcome and make great Christmas gifts.**


	4. Chapter 4 Silent Night

**Thanks to KiwiSWfan and Greylostwho for their reviews and Happy Christmas to all.**

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**Silent Night**

'_**Silent Night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright.'**_

The man found himself stood on the landing outside Nikki's room with a pile of her clothes in his hands. He absent mindedly started folding them, taking note of how his hands shook as he did so. His head sunk to his chest in disbelief. He'd heard the phrase 'blind drunk', used the phrase 'blind drunk,' but never until that moment had Harry Cunningham ever believed it to be a literal saying.

How had she not recognised him?

What mental state was she in that a visit from her dead boss was preferable? He nudged open the door of the spare room. It was exactly how he'd remembered it. Nothing had changed. She'd even nearly called it Harry's room. She'd stopped herself; he'd heard her do it.

What had happened to make her happy to talk to ghosts, to invite them into her house and not even mention his name?

Eighteen months had happened, that's what. And a lot else besides. He drew his hand across his cropped hair.

"I'm sorry Nikki," he whispered and placed her clothes on the table outside her room.

There had been such a length of time when his pride wouldn't let him contact her or not often, then the time when he couldn't contact her and then when he really wanted to no explanation would serve to justify his previous absence. Not without causing her more pain.

What had he done?

He made his way back downstairs quietly and looked at the front door. He could leave now and she would never remember. She'd think she'd had a strange dream, she'd certainly had enough to drink. He could walk away. Again.

But if he'd learned anything in the last eighteen months it was that things can change, even the most hopeless of situations and he'd learned to fight and he'd discovered it was something else he was good at; fighting. And he hadn't come this far to give this battle up without at least giving it his best.

He sat down heavily on a kitchen chair. He couldn't help but notice the stack of cups and glasses needing to be washed. He must have dozed off earlier as he waited for her to get home and now his body seemed back on Eastern Standard Time. He began to run some water into the washing up bowl.

He tried to put things away, but the places where plates and cups should have gone were filled with bottles some empty, some full. He pulled the recycling crate in from the front garden and began loading up the empties.

"For a ghost you make a helluva lot of noise!" Harry jumped, nearly dropping the plastic box. "What are you doing?"

"I'm clearing up," Harry stuttered. "I told you I'm not a ghost."

"You do look a bit like one though," she stepped towards him and brushed her fingers across his cheek. "It's not a healthy colour. I've seen corpses with better colour than that."

"I've not been well," Harry mumbled but hardly loud enough for her to hear. Her speech wasn't as slurred as earlier but he doubted the ten minutes of sleep she'd had was enough to sober her up that much.

"Cup of tea, now you're up?" he asked.

"Go on then," she replied and promptly left the room.

Harry put the kettle on wondering whether she'd return. He needed something stronger than tea, but the sight of her crate of empty bottles turned his stomach. Maybe she'd just not got round to clearing up for a couple of months.

"So if I have tea with you," she began on her return with slippers and an oversized jumper. "Are you going to show me my future?"

"Nikki!" Harry said in exasperation and rattled the recycling box. "I am not the ghost of Christmas. I don't need to show you the future; you know exactly what it is! Cardiovascular problems, cirrhosis, liver failure, mental health issues, increased risk of pancreatitis and malignant neoplasms. Death! Is that what you want?"

It was Nikki's turn to shrug.

"If you really wanted to end it all, I'd have thought you of all people could have at least come up with a creative and slightly quicker method than alcohol poisoning! This tonight, is it a one off?"

"What?"

"You! Too drunk to get the key in the door. Is that a one off?"

"Why do I get the grumpy ghost? I think I would have preferred Leo, he always did like a Christmas drink…"

"Nikki! The alcohol…"

"Yes?" she said looking him in the eye, a spark of the old fire igniting in her pupils.

"It looks like it's a problem. Is it a problem?"

He turned away and dealt with the boiling kettle. He couldn't bear to watch her lie to his face.

"It's a problem," he heard in a voice that sounded far away and uncertain of the way home.

* * *

**Silent Night: Joseph Mohr**


	5. Chapter 5 O Holy Night

**Chapter Five**

**O Holy Night**

'_**Fall on your knees, oh hear the angel voices, O night divine, o night when Christ was born.'**_

"Come for a walk with me?" Harry asked, as they'd finished their tea in silence.

"Now?"

"Yes, why not?"

"Because it's cold, and it's nearly midnight and I'm in my pyjamas…"

"So put something over the top," Harry said. He couldn't cope with her in the house anymore; sitting at her table in stony silence. He needed to get out, clear his head. He needed some fresh air and there was a chance it might sober her up a bit. He couldn't carry on like this, he needed to recharge and he needed her to sober up enough to recognise him.

"Oh, I get it…" she rose unsteadily to her feet. "You'll be gone by the morning won't you?"

"I?"

"I'll get my things."

Harry put the mugs in the sink, and the recycling box out the front again. He saw Nikki walk up the hall and search the floor for her coat. He reached up and pulled it down from the hook.

"So why are we doing this?" Nikki asked as Harry fumbled into his gloves.

"I needed some air,"

Out of the corner of his eye he caught her raise her gaze up to his face, he could imagine the questions rolling across her eyes. They were probably something like: "Why would a ghost need air?" but it was better not to dwell on the questions and she set off up the street at a brisk pace.

"You don't know how lucky you are." Harry said, his words coming in gasps as he stopped to lean on a wall and catch his breath. Nikki slowed down giving him a chance to keep up.

"So if we're doing this properly you still have to show me the ghost of Christmas future and you can't fob me off with a stack of wine bottles and tell me that's my future, because THAT is my present. If we're going to do this properly, you'd better have something lined up! Is that why we came out, you've something to show me?"

Harry just shook his head again.

They walked on in silence, fewer of the Christmas lights were illuminated now, all set on timers to switch off at any normal person's bedtime. They heard the banging of car doors up ahead and a warm light glowing from a doorway. Nikki stopped to look.

In front of her was the open door of a church welcoming all to Midnight Mass.

"It's nearly Christmas Day," whispered Harry as they watched an elderly man push his wife's wheelchair up the ramp and into the church. A little boy ran up the path to the church door and then back to his sister and parents.

"I've never been up this late, never never!" he said excitedly. "I can't wait to see the Baby Jesus in the manger!" His sister stifled a yawn.

"You're sure this will make them sleep later tomorrow morning," they overheard the father ask, as he passed by them.

"Do you want to go in?" Harry asked.

"You're not that kind of ghost are you?" Nikki said nervously.

"I told you. I'm not a ghost!"

"No, you're not are you?" Nikki agreed and slipped her arm through his. "They all have hope don't they," she said gesturing towards the church as they walked on, the sound of singing blowing around them on the wind.

"You used to, what happened?" Harry asked.

"Life happened. Death happened. It all got too much."

"But what about your friends?"

"I don't have friends anymore," she answered sadly.

"Why not?"

"Because it's too painful."

The silence descended again until Nikki asked. "Can we go home now? I've seen enough."

"Only if you tell me about your friends."

"There's not much to tell. Leo's dead and the other one left."

"Why don't you say his name?"

"Because I promised Leo, I'd move on."

"Have you?" Harry asked nervously and held his breath as he waited for the answer. For a while the silence hovered between them like a Christmas angel and then finally he heard the one word he'd been waiting for.

"No."

The only sound now was their slow shuffling footsteps, neither knowing what to add.

"Are you coming in?" Nikki asked as they stood together on her doorstep moments later.

"I've got nowhere else to go."

"I'm your only appointment then? No other sad souls out there need saving?"

"There's probably plenty, but I'm just here for you."

"You remind me of him you know."

"Who?"

"My friend."

"Tell me his name?"

"Harry," she replied. "His name was Harry." And she let out a shuddering sigh as she pushed open the door. Harry leaned heavily against the wall and listened, had his heart not already been torn to shreds that evening; that sound alone would have been enough to pierce it through.

* * *

**O Holy Night: Adolphe Adam**


	6. Chapter 6 O Come All Ye Faithful

**Chapter Six**

**O Come All Ye Faithful**

'_**Come let us behold him,**_**'**

The bright morning light woke Nikki, it was aggravatingly cheerful so she grabbed a jumper from the floor and stumbled her way to the dark kitchen. She flicked the switch on the kettle but not the lights; preferring the gloom and recalled her curious dream. She wasn't entirely sure where the dream started parts of it were so vivid. She could remember every detail of Leo sleeping in her doorway, how he had looked so at home, so peaceful. She couldn't remember much of what they'd talked about though. She went to rinse one of the dirty mugs in the sink knowing there were no clean ones left, when she realised that the pile of mugs in the sink had disappeared.

She started opening and shutting cupboards, noting that all the crockery was clean and back on the shelves and all the bottles that she had squirreled in various cupboards and drawers had all disappeared and with shaking hands poured coffee into the mug adding only milk for the first time in a while.

Ghosts did not clean kitchens.

Hallucinations did not clean kitchens.

Angels she reasoned probably could clean kitchens, and she heard again the sound of the carols from the church she had passed the night before. She had walked with someone. Someone real; of that she was sure.

It couldn't have been Leo.

Someone that stayed up long into the night to clean her kitchen and hide or bin all her alcohol.

Her head began to throb. She'd need some more aspirin. As she took down the box and popped the pill through the foil she remembered being given them the previous night. How had she not thought that odd at the time? Leo wouldn't have known where she kept the painkillers.

Why now?

Why had he come back now?

"Harry?" she half called half whispered, not trusting her voice.

Did she want to believe it was Harry? It would raise more questions than it answered and let loose all the anger she had stored up in her heart since she had last spoken to him, but one look around her kitchen was enough to convince her that someone had been there.

Who else could it possibly be?

It wasn't Harry; she scoffed at the foolish hope that had bubbled up unintentionally in her heart despite the pain of his betrayal. The man had been too old, too grey, too out of shape; he couldn't even walk up the street without losing his breath. It wasn't Harry who had done this. It couldn't have been Harry. But who had? Who had she invited in to her house?

Leaving the mug of coffee she cautiously made her way back up the stairs and peered into the spare room. It was dark like the kitchen, the sun rising on her bedroom's side of the house.

There was definitely someone in the bed.

But who?

* * *

**O come all ye faithful: John Wade**

**There's a fanfic joke in the title of this carol but for once I'll not be accused of being the one making it. Lots of carol services going on today Sunday 22****nd**** Dec… if you've been enjoying the carols maybe you could try one. Last part coming next...**


	7. Chapter 7 While Shepherds Watched

**Chapter Seven**

**While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night**

'_**Fear not said he for mighty dread had seized their troubled minds'**_

Whoever it was; they were sleeping soundly. The room was dark and cold; Nikki climbed onto the foot of the bed and slipped her feet under the covers to keep warm.

She'd sat here like this before; once upon a time.

She sat and watched as the room grew lighter, she looked at the neatly folded pile of clothes by the bed, the arms folded protectively across the man's chest and covers, the faint scar running down his forehead.

It had to be Harry.

But at the same time she hardly recognised him. His skin was ashen, with deep rings around his eyes. His hair shorn and grey, his collar bones and ribs stood out prominently. Harry had never been fat but this was unhealthy looking.

"I've not been well," she suddenly remembered him saying the night before in answer to her jibe about him being a ghost or looking like a corpse.

She looked back at his hair and face, and felt herself shiver despite the warmth of the duvet.

"Oh Harry, what's happened to you?" she gasped, realisation crashing through her hungover brain.

"Nikki? Is that you?"

She nodded but realised in the dark, he'd probably not seen her.

"It's me," she said quietly but even she could hear the catch in her voice and she dashed away the tears on her cheeks. "You're real then," she added.

"I'm real," he replied as he slowly propped himself up on the headrest to face her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She stammered realising as she did so that all the bitterness and anger that she had stored up for such a moment as this had all evaporated under the stark light of the reality of life and death.

"Tell you what?" he asked still coming to after his heavy sleep.

"Your hair!" she pointed unable to formulate any more words. Unable to name the cause she well knew for fear of it adding to its merciless grip on her friend.

"Well yours is a lot shorter," he retorted.

"It was easier to manage," she said dismissively. Avoiding the explanation about hangovers and hairdryers and noise and…

"I was going to tell you," he admitted, running his hand over his head. "But it all happened so quickly, one day I was going for a routine check-up to keep my HMO happy and my health insurance up to date and the next I'm a patient. I was going to call but the timing wasn't great, and then the chemo really knocked me out, I couldn't do anything…"

Nikki digested Harry's short speech silently. Adding all the parts that he hadn't said. "The timing wasn't great," and suddenly it all made complete sense; the disappearance of the semi-regular emails just when she had needed him most, his absence from Leo's funeral, his withdrawal from her life. How was he supposed to tell her he had cancer when Leo had just died? He'd known her for so long and he'd know exactly how badly she'd take his news. How helpless she would feel the other side of the ocean. How lost she would be at the prospect of losing both of them.

"Oh Harry," was all she could think of to say. She pulled her feet from under the duvet, moved to the head of the bed and wrapped her arms around her old friend's shoulders and wept.

* * *

**While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night: Nahum Tate**


	8. Chapter 8 Love Came Down At Christmas

**Chapter 8**

**Love Came Down At Christmas**

'_**Love shall be yours and love be mine,  
Love to God and to all men,'**_

He wasn't entirely sure why she was crying, relief, anger, fear?

He had dreaded her rejecting him outright, throwing him out without a chance to explain his behaviour. Cutting him out of her life as he had done to her but he had only done it in an effort to spare her more pain.

She edged her arm around him and made him sit up and lean against her; she ran her fingers through his hair and touched the loose skin on his face. He didn't see any of the anger he expected after reappearing in her life as suddenly as he'd disappeared from it. He just saw the unrelenting tears stream down her face and for once he didn't feel as if he ought to try and stop them. There was something in her coming apart that brought his fractured being back together. Something healing in the reality that after the months of loneliness and despair, here was someone that despite everything still cared. Here was someone who was as angry as he was with the disease and all that it had done to separate them. Here was someone who would stand with him, weep with him and at the end just sit quietly with him and hold his hand.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"Are you dying?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied prosaically.

"But not soon." He added. It was a Stage two adenocarcinoma, they managed to shrink the tumour with the chemo before surgery, so I still have most of my bowel, there were no metastases and nothing in the lymph glands. The prognosis is good but the chemo was awful Nikki. It makes you wish you were dead."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. You weren't on your own were you?"

"Some of the time. I had to stay with a colleague; she took me in and looked after me. She was my guardian angel. I'd have given up without her." He felt Nikki shift her position, made uncomfortable by his revelation so he clarified. "She was my secretary, she'll retire next year. It was a lot of work taking me in, but she said she'd nursed two husbands through terminal cancer and this was her one shot at winning. She had faith in me when I had none for myself. She wouldn't let me give up. She had her whole church praying for me."

"It looks like it worked,"

"I've a long way to go."

"Is that why you wanted to go to church last night?"

"I just needed to hear the singing, Delores used to sing to me all the time. I needed a boost. I haven't been well enough to make the journey home up until now and even now it's exhausted me. I'm just like a toddler; I need to catch a nap most afternoons."

"What are you going to do?"

"Look after my Mum, she's had a couple of nasty falls, get myself better, think what I want to do with my life now. I've spent so long clinging to life by my fingernails, fighting with my last ounce of strength to beat this thing. I can't go back to just living to work. I want to live.

"Is that why you were so cross with me earlier? Because I'm destroying my life?"

She felt him nod against her.

"Will you go back to America?" she asked.

"No," he said quietly.

"Will you go back?" he asked poignantly.

"Go back?"

"I can't stand by and watch you like you were last night Nikki. It has to stop."

"Or you'll leave?"

"I will."

"It's stopped," she promised. She could feel the heavy weight of Harry pressed up against her, feel his head nodding as he fought to stay awake. He'd been up half the night cleaning her kitchen. He needed to rest.

"Lay down," she said, scooting further down the bed herself.

"Do you think I'm still dreaming?" she asked as she rolled on her side, moulding herself to Harry's back.

"I don't think so,"

"Maybe I'm dead, maybe we're both dead?"

"Would it matter?"

"I don't think so, if this is dead, I quite like it. This is nice."

"You think this is heaven?" Harry asked sleepily but with the old jokey tone she recognised. "If I'd have known this was your idea of heaven I could have made a move years ago!"

"I was thinking more of my clean kitchen," Nikki replied sarcastically. "Thank you," she added more sincerely. "Why didn't you?"

"Because it was never the right time,"

"And now?"

"It's funny how you only miss something when you haven't got it or can't have it."

"And now?"

"Now I know what I want."

"And it's not the person you met last night."

"No it's not." Harry agreed.

"Thanks for coming back."

"Thanks for promising not to go back."

"You never did show me the Christmas future," Nikki whispered.

"I was never the Ghost of Christmas!" Harry countered. "No one wants to see the future. But if we don't make it to my mother's in time for lunch my future's going to be bleak."

"You invited me for lunch at your mother's?" she exclaimed, sitting up and peering over his shoulder.

"Will you come? It'll be quiet, just be the three of us."

"The three of us?"

"The two of you are all I've got. You are all that matters to me. Coming back was the only thing that kept me going; to make things right with you, to be there for my mother. They are the reasons I fought as hard as I did to beat this thing."

"Harry," she said and kissed his shoulder. She had played out the scene of his return many times, chosen her words to cut him with surgical precision, vented her fury, her anger and disappointment. But this was better; here lying in bed with her arm protectively round his ravaged body she felt more peace than any of their fights had ever left her with.

She had clung to her rage against the man now sleeping in her arms for all the months since Leo's funeral. Used it as a shield to protect her from any other feeling, she couldn't quite believe it could disappear in one night.

"Christmas day with you?" she whispered, knowing he was already asleep. "I'd love to," she replied acutely aware that she must be dreaming.

* * *

**Love Came Down At Christmas: Christina Rossetti**


	9. Chapter 9 Joy To The World

**Chapter Nine**

**Joy to the World **

'_**No more let sins and sorrows grow,  
Nor thorns infest the ground;  
He comes to make His blessings flow,'**_

Harry knew he would have to move soon, he didn't want to wake Nikki nor did he want her to wake up in an empty bed, he wasn't completely sure that she'd entirely sobered up during their last conversation. He'd left it as long as he could, but he knew the signs and with the time difference he wasn't entirely sure which pills he had taken and when and what time the next one should be due.

He eased his way out of the bed and to the bathroom, cursing himself for not picking up the bag of medication on the way.

"Nikki, are you awake?" he called, his body shaking violently. The doctor had warned him he'd be prone to infection. He never should have eaten on the plane.

"Nikki?"

There was still no response.

"Nikki, I need help," he called as loudly as he could, feeling as wretched as he had when he had first had to accept help from Delores.

"Harry?!" Nikki said bemusedly; opening her bathroom door to see him resting his head on the edge of her bath.

"I need my bag and a glass of water, please."

Nikki disappeared and when she returned with the water and the drugs, sat down beside him and leant back against the bath.

"If we are dead and this is heaven, I've gone off it a bit," she said.

"What?"

"You think we're both in the other place?"

"No," he shook his head grimly and searched through the bag to find the pills he needed.

"I don't think I'm dreaming either."

"Why?"

"Because if this was a fantasy why would I dream that I was sat here with you on my bathroom floor, with you looking like death warmed up?"

"You have other fantasies?" he queried trying his hardest to muster his mothballed flirty look.

He saw her blush.

"Am I any good?" he asked.

She gave a chuckle despite of herself, it sounded dusty and unused. Harry couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed.

"I don't ever remember imagining us sat here like this," she explained and took hold of his hand. "Did I dream the bit about us going to your mother's for dinner?"

Harry shook his head. "No that's real. Not sure I'll be up to eating much."

"And I'll not be drinking; we'll be a cheap date."

"Do you mean it?" Harry asked.

Nikki nodded.

"I'm terrified though, it's not going to be easy. Is it worse knowing in advance how bad it will be?" she asked.

"Not sure it helped me much."

"Come on, you look dreadful. Let's get you back to bed." She clambered up from the floor and held out her hand to Harry. "Do you think your Mum's started cooking yet?"

"Why?"

"Well, she could come here?"

"Here?"

"Yes, here!"

"But?"

"Harry, seriously! You are going to spend the day between the bedroom and the bathroom. Look at you!" She turned him to face the bathroom mirror. Both the reflected faces had aged considerably since they had previously appeared side by side, both were of an unhealthy pallor and neither had a flattering haircut but despite the effects of time, sickness and grief, both had the possibility of hope in their eyes.

"You'd be hosting Christmas," Harry clarified.

"I think I might like it."

"I'll give her a call."

Nikki left Harry in private to make his call and padded downstairs to her pristine kitchen, switching on the lights to show off the sparkle. Her phone was on the table. She grabbed it and began to formulate a text.

"Sorry for being awful yesterday hope I didn't ruin the party for you, happy Christmas. Love Nikki"

#

"Happy Christmas to you too. Are you alright? Jack"

#

"Just found some Christmas spirit. N"

#

"That's what I was afraid of. J"

#

"No really, Christmas spirit of the peace on earth kind. Think Mary might

Have been ok with her embalming fluid. We're all going to die. N"

#

"Are you sure you're ok?"

#

"I really am. Happy Christmas Jack."

#

"Happy Christmas."

She took the phone and went back up the stairs.

"Mum said she'd be round about one and not to worry about a thing. I need to have a sleep, do you mind?"

Nikki shook her head, she quickly grabbed a book from her nightstand and climbed into the bed and sat up next to him.

"Get some rest," she said. "Thanks for my present."

"I didn't get you a present," he mumbled.

"Yes you did." She ran her fingers over his head. "You've given me the best Christmas ever."

Harry rolled over and propped himself on his elbow to look up at her. "And just because I'm crap at this, and in case I need to know for future years what exactly is it that I've done or given you to make this the best Christmas ever?"

"Future years?" she asked tremulously.

"Please?" he nodded and smiled for the first time since his arrival.

"Christmas future," she whispered and kissed his forehead as he lay back down. "You've given me the true meaning of Christmas."

"I have?"

"Mm hmm, a light for the darkness, peace on earth and goodwill to all men."

"I did? Happy Christmas, Nikki," Harry muttered sleepily.

"Happy Christmas, Harry," Nikki replied with a smile and bent down and kissed his cheek as he slept on peacefully. And so as Nikki observed with trepidation and a new hope for the future "God bless us, every one."

* * *

**Joy To The World: Isaac Watts**

'**Let every heart prepare him room,' may there be room in your lives for the Christ of Christmas this year, that you would know light in darkness, peace and a hope for the future. Happy Christmas, thanks for reading love dinabar. **

**As always any questions feel free and reviews always make great gifts!**


End file.
